I thought I should remind you now

For alas I shall forget in the morning

And what a beautiful morning it is

For forgetting

When breath does steam like a dragons

And feet slide quite happily

Although wrapped in winter coats and scarves

My fingertips still tingle

And of all this talk of morning

Has perhaps made me digress

How easy it is for the mind to

Be forgetting

For it focuses on the frame

Rather than the oil painting

And on the daisy

Within the field

Would it be I have not told you

What it is I was meant to?

For talk of morning and paintings

It seems to me that I have

Forgot.